Blows to the Heart
by valeriedarking
Summary: When a new girl moves to Encino, California and begins to train at the Cobra Kai dojo, she catches the eye of West Valley High's Ace Degenerate Johnny Lawrence and fresh-out-of-Jersey Daniel LaRusso. Set during the first Karate Kid movie. Johnny/OC/Daniel [BEING REWRITTEN FROM THE BEGINNING]
1. New Meat

**This story was uploaded before on this website, but for personal reasons, I have taken it down. After a burst of inspiration, I have decided to start rewriting it from the beginning, and though some things will be very similar to the original story, I have taken the liberty to make a couple of changes.**

 **Shoutout to LumosMoonstone for being so amazing and listening to all my ideas!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **xoxo Valerie**

* * *

 **QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

The bathroom door shook under Dean's fist, the noise tensing every muscle in my body. Leaning over the sink, I glared at my reflection and turned on the tap.

"Quit it!" I hissed. "I'm coming – give it a break!"

The pounding stopped and Dean's footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

 _Leave it to my brother to be an ass_ , I thought.

Cupping my hands together, I sank my face into cold water. When I looked up in the mirror again, I grimaced. There were prominent dark circles under my eyes, circles that had accumulated over a long period of restless nights.

I shut off the tap and walked out of the bathroom.

Dean was waiting for me in the kitchen, putting a jug of milk back in the fridge. He grabbed the two bowls sitting on the counter and walked out to the living room.

"Can you grab the spoons?" he called out over his shoulder.

Reluctantly, I did.

He carefully lowered himself on the couch and handed me a bowl. I sat on the floor beside the coffee table and started eating almost mournfully.

"So, _Quinnie_ —"

"Don't call me that."

Dean snickered. "You used to love it."

"It's been twelve years. Preferences _do_ change, you know."

He fell silent for a while. I reached for the remote and clicked on the TV. Flipping through channels, I settled on watching the weather forecast for that week. As expected, there would be nothing but sunshine and more sunshine.

"Gotta love California weather," I muttered. "Don't know why the hell you ran away _here_ out of all places."

Dean scoffed in reply. He continued eating, suddenly looking very interested in his cereal.

I had every right to be passive-aggressive. For twelve years, I'd heard nothing from him, not one phone-call, not one letter. And now, because of "the accident", I was sentenced to live with him until I turned eighteen. As if moving from the Oregon house I grew up in to the land of beaches and fame wasn't enough, I had to spend nine whole goddamn months with a brother who felt more like a stranger than family.

"So," I said, finishing up the last bit of milk, "I'm going to need to borrow your car."

"What for?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I want to go out. If I'm starting at West Valley High next week, I need to get started on the whole making friends thing."

He gave me a sly smile. "I already took care of that for you," he informed me.

My face fell. "What?"

"Yeah, I found a great place where you can make _tons_ of friends."

Narrowing my eyes, I got up. "Dean," I began, fighting the urge to raise my voice. "Dean, don't get involved in my life, alright? I don't need your help. I've been doing just fine without you for the past—"

"Yeah, I know," he said, irritated. "You've reminded me over a hundred times since you got here. I get it – you're independent." He got up as well, and though I straightened my posture as much as I could, he towered over me. "But as long as I am your legal guardian, I'm also allowed to make choices for you."

The tension around us was so thick you could've cut it with a knife. It took every ounce of strength in my body to not reach out and slap him. Legal guardian, my ass.

"Get changed and meet me outside in fifteen minutes," Dean said. He grabbed my bowl and his and headed into the kitchen, unaware of the glares I was giving him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean pulled out of the driveway in a red '73 Ford Thunderbird. For all it was worth, at least he had good taste in cars – although, I wouldn't admit that to his face even if it killed me.

He drove down the streets of Encino with the windows rolled down, while Bruce Springsteen sang softly on the radio. I glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye, lips pursed tightly in dismay.

Though he was my brother, he looked almost nothing like me. He had relatively dark hair while mine was the colour of caramel, and his skin was wintry and pale while mine was sun-kissed like any other typical California girl's. The only aspect that was the same were his eyes – hazel with green flecks. On him, they looked good – mysterious, even. On me, not so much.

"Do I have something on my face?" he suddenly asked.

I snapped my gaze away, folding my arms across my chest. "Yeah, a dash of ugly. I think it's permanent."

"Ha. Very funny."

After what seemed like an eternity, he parked in front of a building with a giant cobra painted on the front. My eyes widened.

" _Karate – strike like a Cobra Kai_ ," I read aloud. A cold tingle slid down my spine. "Dean, you didn't."

He laughed. "I did. You're welcome."

He was out of the car before I could maim him. I had no choice but to follow him.

I mentally swore at Dean every way I knew how, even ways I didn't. It must've been almost two years since I'd stopped training, and that was because my old karate dojo back in Oregon got renovated into a hair salon before I could get my black belt. I'd lost interest in the sport afterwards; it was nothing spectacular if you weren't _the best_ at it. Having only a purple belt didn't exactly give me bragging rights the way brown belts and black belts did.

"How did you know I did karate?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mom and Dad told me," Dean replied, opening the door for me. His words made my stomach sink. He'd talked to our parents since he'd left and he never once bothered to talk to _me_. That was even more reason to kick his ass.

I walked inside. The air conditioning was on at probably the lowest setting, but it still felt much better than the stuffy heat outside. I craned my head to get a better look of the place; there were photos on the wall of a man I assumed to be the sensei, including a life-size cut-out of him in a striking position. _Well, he's arrogant_ , I thought. The plaque below a photo of him in an army uniform read _Cpt. John Kreese_.

Trophies decorated the foyer of the dojo, probably from the numerous competitions his students had participated in. At least his dojo had a good reputation.

But the main attraction were the sixteen teenage boys lined up in a perfect square, practicing tornado kicks in synchronization. A tall and well-built man in a black sleeveless gi patrolled around the boys with a glare that could rival mine. His sharp, cold eyes assessed them individually. When his gaze fell on Dean and me, it was like the blood in my veins stopped flowing.

 _Shit,_ I thought. _I'm toast_.

The boys all stopped abruptly, assuming their resting positions – arms slightly bent at the elbow in front of their abdomen – and waited for Kreese's instructions.

"Class, we have two visitors," the sensei said, his austere voice resounding throughout the dojo. "Fall in."

They all straightened themselves up and turned to face us; two boys in the front row traded places with two other boys behind them. They all seemed to stare at Dean and I like predators – the way a snake eyes its next meal. When I looked up at Dean, his face was emotionless and calm, and he betrayed no sign of having been intimidated. I hated how I was the only one affected by the tension in the room. He could've at least _tried_ to sympathize with me.

"Hello, Kreese," Dean greeted.

"Gray," Sensei Kreese replied in the same uninterested voice. "Is this the little vermin?" he asked, inclining his head in my direction.

 _Vermin_? What the hell—

"Yes," my brother answered, sliding over that comment. "She's a purple belt already."

I narrowed my eyes at him. If looks could kill, I'd be on death row already.

"What style?"

"Shotokan."

The corners of Kreese's mouth curled upwards. "Then she's not completely untrained."

I could tell he and I weren't going to ever get along. The amount of disrespect he had for his students – existent and potential – was sickening.

A boy from the front row snickered. He had light blonde hair and a black headband tied around his forehead, and in all honesty, he was the most attractive guy in the dojo. But he, too, had contracted Kreese's lack of respect, which made whatever physical attraction I might have felt for him meaningless. He gave the other boys beside him a look that said it all – _what a loser_.

"Mr. Lawrence!" Kreese called out. The blond boy with the headband straightened up.

"Yes, sensei!"

"Feel like matching Ms. Gray?"

" _Yes, sensei!_ "

It was like someone had hit me upside the head with a baseball bat. "What? No – I can't fight _now_ —"

"On the mat," Kreese ordered.

Panicked, I looked to Dean for help, but the bastard was too busy trying to fight back a smile to make any attempt at getting me out of sparring. Exhaling shakily, I took off my shoes and jacket, and stepped onto the soft white mat. The boys parted themselves, forming a rectangle around the fight zone.

 _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic_ , I chanted. It didn't help at all.

"Go Johnny!" one of the blonde's friends yelled.

 _Johnny Lawrence_. It would have been a cute name if it hadn't belonged to someone who looked like he could pulverize me in two seconds flat.

I knew the routine. Both Johnny and I bowed to Kreese and then turned and bowed to each other. I assumed a back stance, ready to block anything Johnny was about to throw at me. He looked confident, smirking with a murderous glint in his eye, while I was almost shaking with fear. Once upon a time, I used to be alright with handling pain. Now, even a paper cut managed to cripple me. I couldn't bear to imagine what a kick in the face from him would feel like.

"Begin!" Kreese shouted.

The reckless part of my brain told me to strike first.

So I did.

And he dodged it.

Except Johnny didn't just dodge it. He grabbed my arm and snuck in a roundhouse kick, hitting me straight in the chest. I landed on the floor, gasping for air. Tears swam in my eyes, threatening to stain my cheeks and humiliate me even further. Boys snickered left and right, making my face burn with anger. Gritting my teeth, I kipped-up and got back into my stance.

"C'mon, Johnny!" another boy shouted.

Johnny didn't look pleased. Obviously, he'd planned for his kick to be final; I wasn't supposed to get up. He lunged towards me and threw a punch. In the second it took for me to block it, he let his guard down.

I didn't waste that second. I punched him in the chest, making him wince and coil back. He rubbed the spot where I'd hit him, never breaking eye contact. He tensed like an animal about to strike. For a second, I'd been so damn proud of myself for landing a blow on him, but really, all that did was piss him off even more.

 _Great_ , I thought. _I'm gonna get it now._

I saw him spin into a tornado kick, and I saw his foot coming towards my face, but by the time I'd registered that I was about to get hit, it was too late. The only thing I could think of as I landed face first on the mat was how _pretty_ his eyes were – a bright blue the colour of the sea.

My left cheek stung so badly that my vision turned white. A pathetic whimper escaped me; it took everything I had to not cry.

 _Forget the pain_ , I told myself. _Make Johnny feel it instead._

"Are you done?" Johnny taunted. "Or do you want more?"

He made the mistake of stepping too close to me. I swung out my legs and kicked his from under him. Before he could react, I crawled over him and punched him as hard as I could in the jaw. As I tried to get another hit in, he threw me off him.

His friends were no longer laughing. It was my turn to smile.

Though my moment of victory didn't last long. As soon as we were both back up on our feet, Johnny attacked again, and like before, I wasn't able to react fast enough to dodge his fist. My nose burned, and I felt a warm liquid dripping down onto my lips. I wiped at it with my hand.

 _Don't give up_ , I thought. _Don't let him see you cry._

It was bad form to kick someone when they're down, but Johnny didn't seem to mind. He got me right in the stomach, flipping me over on my back.

Why wasn't Kreese calling the fight off already? Surely, we'd broken so many rules in this sparring match. Was he that sadistic? Or was he just waiting for me to give up?

But I couldn't do that. I'd _never_ do that.

As I stumbled onto my feet, Johnny spun around into the worst kick yet. I hit the mat on my back, trying to remember how breathing worked.

 _Please, stop the match_.

Suddenly, I began to cough violently, and with every muscle contraction in my abdomen, a new wave of pain spread through my body. I made the mistake of looking up at Dean – his eyes were wide in what looked like concern. Must've been a better actor than I thought. He was probably horrified at the thought of the medical bill that would follow if Johnny did any real damage. Bastard.

After a few more seconds, I mustered up the strength to stand up and get back in my stance. The blood from my nose dripped into my mouth and down my chin, staining the white mat. Johnny wasn't smiling anymore. Neither were his friends. Instead, he glanced at his sensei, and a sinister smile spread across Kreese's face as he rested his hands on his karate belt.

"You're an incessant little vermin, ain't ya?" he asked. "I like that." He straightened up and his smile vanished. "Tomorrow morning at eight a.m., I expect to see you here for your first lesson."

It was like heaven was looking down on me. I let out a shaky breath in relief.

"So she can get her ass kicked again?" one of Johnny's friends whispered. They began to snicker but Kreese shot them a cold look that made them stop like at the flick of a switch.

I reluctantly bowed at Johnny and then at Kreese. Kreese turned to Dean and they began talking, probably about the cost of each lesson. I tried to stand up straight – and stopped immediately when my back and chest ached in complaint.

Painfully, I put my shoes back on and grabbed my jacket. When I looked at Johnny one more time, I noticed his smirk was back. He stood beside his four friends who had laughed hard on my part only a few seconds ago.

I huffed quietly and left while my brother was preoccupied with Kreese, trying to put as much distance between myself and the dojo before Dean realized I was gone.


	2. Freddy and Alan

**QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

When I was sure Dean hadn't followed me, I sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and inhaled deeply. My chest ached in complaint, scolding me for breathing. _Like I have a choice_ , I thought.

What had I gotten myself into? I was sure that if I'd put up more of a struggle in the car, Dean wouldn't have forced me to go through with the karate lessons. But now, I was stuck with a bunch of cruel assholes – mildly good-looking assholes – who could beat me up seven ways from Sunday anytime they pleased.

Though, I couldn't blame Dean for everything. The truth was that it felt good to be a part of something so united again. The white gi, the belt, the same fierce cobra on the back – everyone in there was a team.

Even back in Oregon, my old karate friends were more of a family to me than my real one. I could already see the appeal of being one of Kreese's students. And I was sure that if I gave it time, I'd grow used to being sadistic and merciless like him and the rest of his boys.

Part of me didn't really mind that, and it scared me.

I didn't really feel like going home and dealing with Dean yet, so I hitched a cab and decided to roam around LA instead. The cab driver gawked at me when he first saw me, and I could tell he was _very_ close to calling the police on my behalf, but I pulled my hood up and slouched in the backseat and asked him to take me somewhere "fun".

He proceeded to drop me off at Golf 'N Stuff.

Dean had told me about the place back when I'd first arrived in California, though I hadn't paid much attention to it. I wasn't big on amusement parks. Things like bumper cars and trampolines and stupid games where you had to throw a ball and knock down as many pins as possible didn't appeal to me. The only thing I was okay with were rollercoasters, but even those got tiring after a while.

There were a lot of couples at Golf 'N Stuff when I arrived. I didn't know how they could ever find a place like that acceptable for a date. That stuff seemed a lot more suitable for people who were _just friends_. It wasn't romantic at all.

I made a beeline for the closest bathroom. There were a few girls already inside, so I waited as inconspicuously as possible until they were gone to take my jacket off. When I did, my stomach did a flip.

There was dried blood spattered on my nose and chin, and I was already forming a black eye. I frantically wetted some paper towels and dabbed at the stains. When everything was cleaned up, the only real damage was a reddened nose – not broken, thank God – and the eye that I was fighting hard to keep open.

"It's fine," I said out loud. "You'll be fine."

Though it hurt to breathe, after running careful fingers across my ribs and wincing under my touch, I realized that none were broken. I tried to straighten my posture as much as I could, and giving myself one last look in the mirror, I walked out of the bathroom.

I ignored the looks I got from everyone that passed me. The bruises on my face were just indications that I wasn't afraid to fight them. Let them stare. Even though I couldn't beat Johnny, I was sure that I could beat everyone else – _anyone_ else. Hell, even his stupid friends would be dead meat if I ever had to fight them. Who cared about strangers staring?

 _Let them stare_. And if they stare too long, I'll kick their faces in.

I scolded myself for thinking that. I was angry, that was all. There wasn't any need for me to turn into a bully like Kreese. It shouldn't make me happy to think about hurting others.

But it did. I wanted to take out my anger on someone – no, not _someone_.

Dean. That bastard. He was the reason why my eye was swelling shut and my nose stung every time I breathed, and why it felt like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest whenever I moved. I wanted to punch him into next year and let him feel how I felt.

I retreated into the nearby Arcade. It was intimidating – so many games and not enough time to play them all – but my eyes fixed themselves on the ice hockey table. There were already two boys getting ready to play, but the moment I stepped into view and smiled – painfully – their faces lit up.

"D'you mind if I join?" I asked.

It was pathetically obvious that they were staring at my eye, but at least they had the decency not to mention it. The stockier of the boys nodded at me.

"Sure, let's see what you've got."

It didn't take long for me to beat him. Maybe I was good, maybe he was going easy on me, I didn't care. It felt a lot less thrilling to win than I thought it would.

"Nice moves," the boy said. He held his hand out after the match. "Freddy Fernandez."

"Quinn Gray." I shook it.

"This is Alan," he introduced the boy beside him. Alan wore a red bandanna, halfway lost in his curly hair. Tacky, but it suited him. He held out his hand, too.

"You guys go to school around here?" I asked.

"Yeah, West Valley," Freddy replied.

"Cool. Me, too." Or at least, that's what Dean had told me. I wondered if I'd gotten the name wrong.

"I haven't seen you at school before," Freddy says. We'd started to move away from the table hockey and onto shooting hoops. He tossed a ball and missed.

"I'm new," I said. It left a sour taste in my mouth. "I just moved here from Oregon."

"Wow. What was it like?"

"I don't know. Nice?"

My aversion towards the subject made him drop it altogether. I picked up a ball and threw it at the hoop. It went in, all net and no rim. Freddy's eyes widened.

"You play a lot?"

"Not really."

We walked around the Arcade for a while, trying out different games. It was the perfect distraction, or _was_ until Freddy cleared his throat.

"So, I've been meaning to ask but I didn't want to seem rude. What happened to your eye?"

Alan inched forward. He, too, was curious.

Defeated, I sighed. "Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Short version," Freddy decided.

"I got into a fight." Both boys looked at me expectantly like they were waiting for the next part of the story, but I pursed my lips and headed for a Pac-Man machine in the back.

"That's all we get?" Alan pushed.

"You guys said you wanted the short version."

"C'mon, spill," Freddy urged. "What happened?"

I ended up leading them outside. We walked around the grounds while I talked. I didn't tell them much – just that I used to do karate back in Salem and that my brother thought it would be good for me to get back into it, and that I was forced to spar by my soon-to-be sensei even though it had been almost two years since I'd done anything that physically demanding.

"That's so cool!" Alan's eyes twinkled. "What dojo are you training at?"

"The Cobra Kai dojo." My voice seethed with venom. The boys didn't notice.

They started getting excited and telling me all kinds of stories about how _amazing_ that dojo was and how _impressive_ the students were. I tried to tune them out, occasionally humming in agreement. It was only when they brought up the subject of Johnny Lawrence that I started to pay attention again.

"Yeah, I know him," I said. "I _fought_ him."

This cued another barrage of questions and observations that I wasn't too fond of. _Did he kick your ass? He's Kreese's favourite student, you can't stand a chance. Johnny's a two-time champion – did_ you _ever compete before?_

Of course, Alan and Freddy hadn't sounded that scornful and maybe I was extrapolating a little, but the message was crystal clear – Johnny Lawrence was a threat.

"Whatever," I said. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does!" Freddy exclaimed. "You're, like, the first girl to be a Cobra Kai. _Ever_."

"Huh."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "You're telling us you don't care at all? About _any_ of this?"

"I really don't." _Liar_. "I'm just doing this because my brother's paying for the lessons." Though that was one of the reasons, I didn't dare tell them the whole truth. I couldn't admit how deep Johnny Lawrence had burrowed himself under my skin over the past few hours, or how humiliated I felt when _everyone_ in that dojo – including my brother – was rooting against me.

Freddy and Alan were both unconvinced, but they strayed from the topic.

"Anyways, we're having a beach party in a few days," Freddy said. "You should come."

"Sure."

"Cool."

It was easy to hang out with them when they weren't talking about how cool Johnny Lawrence was. I found myself enjoying their company; they weren't all that different from my old friends in Salem, which was comforting. As Freddy and Alan continued to show off, I even found myself smiling.

California was starting to look slightly less horrible than before.

* * *

 **I know this is super late, but better late than never, right? Thank you so much for everyone that read the first part and reviewed it. Hopefully I'll be more consistent with updates in the future!**


	3. Worthy Opponent

**QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

Of course, I got the third-degree when I got home. Dean was so pissed – _where were you? – who were you with? – do you not realize you could have gotten lost? – quit rolling your eyes at me when I'm talking to you –_

I let him pretend to be authoritarian and locked myself in my sorry excuse of a room as soon as he was finished. Dean was honestly the very last thing on my mind. I was far more concerned about the beach party I'd been invited to. Call me fickle, but it isn't everyday boys decide they want to hang out with me. Besides, it was a perfect distraction. Beach parties were fun and stress-free – and exactly what I needed.

I spent the rest of the evening unpacking the last few boxes I'd neglected, softly humming along to the radio. Halfway through a song I didn't recognize, Dean knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready. I politely declined.

But unpacking was a job that only kept my hands busy, and I soon found myself thinking about that morning. It didn't take long for it to sink in that I hated that dojo and everyone in it. My skin crawled at the thought of going back, which was exactly what I was going to have to do. And it wasn't even because Dean was so adamantly paying for my lessons.

No, I needed to gain back the respect I'd lost. Though, really, the more I thought about it, it didn't feel like I'd had any in the first place.

And goddamn – _those eyes_! Who gave Johnny Lawrence the right to have such pretty eyes? So cold and twisted and cruel and sickeningly beautiful; it was like the guy upstairs had taken it upon himself to make sure I would always suffer here.

Maybe there was something messed up with me for calling the guy that beat me up beautiful. Maybe I was going insane already.

After a long shower, I peeled off my damp towel and slipped into bed. The fabric was cool against my skin, perfect for the stuffy weather. Despite my brain's natural tendency to overthink everything as soon as the lights were off, I fell asleep in a heartbeat.

* * *

I left the house at seven.

Dean had offered to drive me there but I refused. I didn't need him to think that I couldn't get by without his help. Besides, I was nervous enough as it was about being back in that dojo. I didn't need Dean breathing down my neck, too.

But the one downside of walking was that my mind was free to roam as it pleased, even into territories I wanted to leave untouched.

Last night was horrible. Though I'd fallen asleep peacefully, I'd woken up a few times with _his_ blue eyes seared into the back of my lids. _Johnny Lawrence_ – even his name sounded pretty. It fit him like an old pair of gloves.

I sounded like such a _girl_. Getting worked up over a boy was something I swore I'd never do, and here I was, shallowly thinking about how attractive the guy that kicked my ass was. There really _was_ something wrong with me.

I reached the dojo with a few minutes to spare. Kreese had gotten everything ready for me – he motioned to a white karate-gi on the bench in front of the foyer.

"Changing rooms are at the back," he said.

I bowed slightly and grabbed the gi.

The changing _rooms_ turned out to be _one_ changing room, clearly meant for boys only. I was suddenly very grateful that I was the only one there. I should have taken Freddy's comment about me being the first female Cobra Kai a little more seriously. Dressing and undressing around a bunch of teenage boys was going to be difficult.

I moved fast. I'd put on a gi more times than I could count; despite not doing any karate for almost two years, it felt nice to be back in the routine. As I got my belt out of my bag, boys started to loudly pile in. It wasn't until I had almost gotten it tied around my waist that I heard _them_.

"Look what the cat dragged in," one of the boys said. He had a toothy grin on, the kind that made my skin itch and crawl. The other guys snickered at his comment. As I made my way out of the changing room, the guy who'd spoken jostled me roughly.

 _Perfect_ , I thought. _Just perfect_.

* * *

I was shaking by the time our warm-ups were done. The bad looks I got from Johnny Lawrence and his five friends seemed to burn through every fiber of my being. To say the least, I was terrified. I knew the beating I'd gotten yesterday was nothing compared to the beatings that were sure to come. I desperately wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole – _anything_ to not be in the same room as them. I could _feel_ myself growing more and more pale by the second; it was a miracle I was still conscious with how little blood there was in my head.

Then, Kreese began talking. "Fear does not exist in this dojo, does it?" he barked.

"No, sensei!"

The force and severity with which everyone around me had shouted sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"Pain does not exist in this dojo, does it?" he continued.

"No, sensei!"

"Defeat does not exist in this dojo, does it?"

"No sensei!"

One of Johnny's friends gave me a pointed look. I knew what he meant – _do what they do_. He, too, had pretty eyes – a somber grey that rivaled Johnny's – and blonde hair, though his was significantly darker, like ash.

"Fear does not exist in this dojo, does it?" Kreese repeated.

I glanced around once and then tensed up. "No, sensei!" we all yelled.

"Pain does not exist in this dojo, does it?"

I breathed in. "No, sensei!"

"Defeat does not exist in this dojo, _does it_?"

" _No, sensei!_ "

Kreese's face hardened even more, if that was possible. "Combat!" he shouted. Everyone formed a rectangle around the mat. I squeezed in between two brown belts, trying hard to make myself as small as I could. Maybe Kreese wouldn't notice me, though with my bad luck, I doubted it.

Dutch and Johnny grabbed the point flags and stood on opposite corners of the rectangle. Kreese's eyes scanned the crowd, landing right on me. My stomach dropped.

"Brown, Gray!" Kreese called out.

The boy with the pretty grey eyes shot up. I got up, too, shakily and unsure. The guy who'd jostled me in the change room snorted in derision. If I was in his place, I would have had the same reaction. I looked ridiculous.

"C'mon, Bobby!" he urged.

Bobby Brown. At least his name was nice. It didn't really matter, though; he would kick my ass seven ways from Sunday.

 _Fear does not exist in this dojo._

Yeah, right. I was _terrified_ of Bobby. I was _terrified_ of everyone here. Maybe if I hadn't gotten my ass kicked yesterday, it wouldn't have been so bad. But I knew what to expect and the anticipation was almost worse than the actual pain itself. _Almost_.

Bobby and I walked to the black lines in the middle of the mat. We bowed to Kreese, and then bowed to each other.

"Fight!" Kreese exclaimed.

Bobby got into his stance. I did the same. It surprised me that he didn't have the same cruel jeer that the rest of Johnny's friends did. If anything, he looked _concerned._ It was such a nice gesture that it took me by surprise.

He glanced at Kreese, then at Johnny, then at me. I'd have killed to know what he was thinking.

Bobby moved in quickly and front-kicked. I dodged and stumbled backwards. Some of the guys laughed quietly and I felt my cheeks turn red, both in anger and in embarrassment. Bobby didn't laugh, though. He inhaled and then kicked again. It was harder to dodge that time.

He was going easy on me, another kind gesture that did not go unnoticed. I was sure I would have never received that kind of courtesy from the rest of his friends. Even in the changing rooms – now that I think about it – Bobby hadn't laughed along with the others.

But being nice didn't earn any favours with Kreese, and Bobby seemed to know that. His blows became harder and harder to dodge and he was getting impatient; with one swift kick, he knocked my legs out from under me.

I landed hard on my back. The air from my lungs lodged itself in my throat, cutting my gasp short into a whimper. The shock came in waves; first there was pain, and then there was numbness. My chest ached with every ragged breath I took, the bruises from yesterday's beating pulsing in complaint.

But I didn't have time to be dazed. Bobby lunged to deliver what he probably thought would be the finishing blow; I rolled out of his way and kipped up.

 _Pain does not exist in this dojo._

If only. Everything hurt. I wanted the match to end. I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a long time. I wanted to be anywhere else but on the mat, under the scrutinizing gazes of Johnny Lawrence and his friends. As childish as it sounded, I wanted to go _home_. Not in Encino – no, that wasn't my _real_ home. I wanted to go back to Oregon to the little yellow house I grew up in with the baby blue front door and the potted aloe plants on the porch. How nice it would be to go back to my old bedroom and stay there forever.

Slowly, I backed up onto my line and exhaled softly. I straightened my stance, despite my back cracking in protest. Bobby's eyes flickered over to his friends. He didn't seem too hesitant anymore. _Good_. Neither was I.

He coiled to strike but I was quicker; I spun into a roundhouse kick that hit him square in the chest. Bobby fell back and I dropped beside him with my arm pulled back, ready to hit him again and win the match.

But then his pretty grey eyes got to me. I _couldn't_. Not after how nice he'd been. Not after how easy he'd gone on me. Not after how he'd been the only one in the dojo to show me any amount of decency.

"Finish him!" Kreese yelled.

 _One hit_ , I told myself. _One hit and it will all be over._

I took in a shaky breath.

 _Defeat does not exist in this dojo._

So, I hit him – a blow to the neck, hard enough to take away his breath.

* * *

"You said you wanted to see me, sensei?" I said, clasping my hands behind my back.

Kreese was pacing around the empty dojo, his eyes hardened into his usual glare. I considered it somewhat of a blessing to be asked to stay behind; the rest of the boys were changing and the last thing I wanted was for them to see me taking off my karate-gi.

"We do not train to be merciful here," Kreese said. "I shouldn't see any hesitation during your matches. When you step onto that line, the person opposing you becomes your enemy. And an enemy deserves no mercy. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sensei."

"Good. Go get changed." I bowed and headed for the change rooms when Kreese spoke again. "Tell Mr. Brown I want to see him."

 _Uh-oh_. That couldn't be good. I wasn't the only one that had shown hesitation during our fight; Bobby had gone way too easy on me. He was going to get chewed out a lot worse than I had; after years of Kreese's regime, he should have known by now that mercy isn't tolerated in the dojo.

My feet felt heavy as I walked inside the changing room.

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and stared at me. I swallowed hard and was about to lower my gaze, until I realized that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of. I was new and I had fought decently. I didn't break any rules or get my ass handed to me. Bobby going soft on me was his choice. There was nothing to feel bad about.

I got my clothes out of my bag and took off the top of my karate-gi. I could feel the disappointment around me as the guys noticed I was wearing a camisole underneath.

While I got dressed, I couldn't help but think about what Kreese had said. _An enemy deserves no mercy_. Surely, that wasn't right, at least not in every case. Part of being a good fighter is to know when to cease fighting – or so I'd been taught. I had the feeling that if I ever said that to Kreese, he would belt me across the face and make me do fifty push-ups on my knuckles.

But the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. It was clear why Johnny Lawrence acted the way he did. And being a black belt, I could only imagine how much time he'd spent under Sensei Kreese's influence. He was a lost cause.

I looked around. The only people left in the change room – beside myself – were Johnny and his friends. They were talking to each other, eyeing me carefully. The toothy-grinned bastard that had jostled me earlier snickered and whispered something to the others, making them laugh, too. Like before, Bobby was the only one that didn't join in.

I gritted my teeth and threw on my shirt. Wanting to take up more time in order for them to leave before me, I went to the small mirror beside the door and began examining the black eye I'd gotten yesterday. I heard them laugh again, and they spoke louder, clearly intending for me to hear.

"Bobby, you should've just given it to her," the boy with the toothy grin said. I glared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, man," another boy agreed. He had blond hair, too, but it seemed just a tad too yellow to be real. "She's no match for you."

"Purple belt," the first guy scoffed. "Yeah, right. Purple belt my ass."

I breathed in slowly and counted to ten. _Don't start shit_ , I told myself. _They aren't worth it_.

"Hey, Gray!" the bleached blond called out. "Show us that dodging technique of yours again!"

"Watch, I got it," the first guy said. He stumbled backwards exaggeratedly and then got back into a stance. As they laughed, I gritted my teeth even more.

"What's the matter, Gray?"

"I think she's about to cry."

When I spoke, my voice was surprisingly steady.

"Bobby – that's your name, right?" I asked, turning to look at the boy I'd just fought. He seemed surprised that I was addressing him. "Kreese wants to see you."

That dampened everyone's mood. They knew as well as I did what a talk with Kreese meant.

"Alright," Bobby replied. "Thanks."

His display of manners was like a slap to his friends. They raised eyebrows at him, and as they all walked out of the changing rooms, I heard the peroxide blond and the other boy crack a few more jokes.

I sat down beside my bag and held my hands out in front of me. They were shaking, despite there being no one left around me to make me feel threatened.

I hated karate, I hated this dojo, I hated the sensei, and I hated the students. Why did Dean have to sign me up for lessons in the first place? Why did he have to stick his nose where it didn't belong? Why couldn't he have left me alone in Oregon instead of bringing me to California with him? Couldn't he see that I was miserable enough as it was without him making it worse?

I didn't realize I was crying until tears started pooling on the tiled floor below me. My back tremored with sobs. I don't know how long I sat there looking all pathetic and sad, but then the door swung open and Bobby stood awkwardly beside the mirror. Mortified, I dabbed at my face with the hem of my shirt.

Bobby went over to the bench where his stuff had been and picked up his black belt; he must have forgotten it in a rush to see Kreese. He was about to head out of the changing room when he stopped short in his tracks and reached inside the pocket of his jacket, taking out a tissue. As he handed it to me, his grey eyes clouded with the same concern as before.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And then he was out the door.


	4. Bathing Suits

**QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

I hitched a cab home after changing out of my gi. My body was too numb and tired to walk back, and I didn't want to grant my mind the freedom that came with walking. I would only end up overthinking things like I usually did and let emotions get the best of me. I'd cried once and it was enough; I couldn't lose myself like that again.

It didn't take long to get back to Dean's place. I handed the driver his money and stumbled my way inside. Dean wasn't home; I hadn't seen his Thunderbird in the driveway.

Kicking off my shoes and throwing myself on the couch, I turned on the TV and flipped to a cooking channel. As the cook sautéed some onions, I dozed off.

When Dean shook me awake, it was dark outside. I blinked and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, sitting up. He held out a bag of take-out; I took it without saying a word.

"How was karate?" he asked, settling beside me on the couch.

I shrugged and started eating. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until taking the first bite.

Dean didn't seem fazed by my lack of enthusiasm for the conversation. "Listen, I know you're not that happy about me signing you up for lessons, but I figured it would be a great way to get your mind off things." His tone was pointed at the end, like he expected me to do just that.

I glanced up at him. "I don't need to get my mind off _anything_ ," I said. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Are you?"

"Yes." But my breath hitched in my throat when I said it, almost as if my body was fighting against the lie. I _wasn't_ fine. I could never be fine in California. I'd tried to pretend with Freddy and Alan, but being around them can only do so much. They weren't a cure for the crying and the anger and the pain. They were just a temporary distraction.

Dean moved on. "So, did you make any friends?"

I scoffed. "No. I'm pretty sure everyone hates me." Except Bobby. Bobby was nice. Bobby even apologized, though I wasn't sure for what exactly. Maybe he apologized for his friends. Maybe he felt bad for having walked in on me crying. It didn't matter.

"Why would they hate you?"

"Remember the guy who kicked my ass yesterday?" Dean nodded. "His friends think I'm total trash."

"So, kick _their_ asses."

"I wish I could."

My appetite vanished as quickly as it'd come. I put my bowl of take-out on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushion I'd slept on. "By the way, I got invited to a beach party," I said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you didn't make any friends."

"Not at the dojo. I met two guys yesterday at Golf 'N Stuff."

"I see." He shrugged and picked up the remote, flipping through different shows. "Did you bring a swimsuit?"

I frowned. I hadn't thought about that. "No. Guess I'll have to go buy one."

"Guess you do."

Dean decided on an old western and it became clear that the conversation was over. I grabbed my bag from where I'd left it that afternoon and retreated in my room.

* * *

It wasn't hard to get to the mall. The Sherman Oaks Galleria was a popular teenage hang-out from what I understood; Dean had told me all about it that morning. I hitched a cab there and paid the driver a hefty tip for beating the morning traffic.

I had an idea of what to expect. Malls in California were supposed to be the epitome of adolescence. It was the place where _cool_ people went to show off their said coolness. I'd never cared for shopping the way other girls my age did, but then again, Salem's malls couldn't compare to Sherman Oaks.

I wandered around for a while, doing nothing but window shopping, afraid to actually commit to a store and go inside. I didn't have much money with me – just what remained of the allowance Dean had given me on my first day in Encino. Surely but slowly, I'd whittled away most of it already. Cabs weren't that cheap; I was going to have to find another way to get around town.

I made my way down to the food court. As I was ordering a milkshake from what seemed like a promising food stand, I heard someone call my name. Before I knew it, Bobby Brown was by my side, a smile on his face. He was with another boy – a cute brunet who looked at me with curiosity. He had pretty eyes, too. Goddamn it, what was it with California boys and their overly-attractive features?

"Weird running into you here, Quinn," Bobby said.

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

The boy beside him smiled. "Everyone at the dojo knows your name."

Bobby jerked his thumb towards the boy. "This is Jimmy."

The realization came to me in a rush; I recognized Jimmy. He was one of Johnny's friends, and he, too, had laughed at me on different occasions. Still, there was nothing malevolent about his current expression.

"Nice to meet you," I said. The server behind the counter handed me my milkshake, and I started walking alongside Bobby and Jimmy.

"Listen, we want to apologize for Tommy and Dutch yesterday," Bobby began. "I know they can be very annoying. Don't listen to them, okay? _We_ don't."

"Which one of them is Tommy?" I asked.

"The guy who laughs too much and doesn't know when to shut up?" Jimmy offered. Ah, so he must have been the one with the toothy grin. Which meant "Dutch" was the peroxide blonde.

"Got it." I shrugged. "I'm fine. I don't mind it."

Bobby gave me a look that Jimmy didn't see. He knew just as well as I did that I was lying. He'd seen me cry yesterday and that was a very obvious sign that I _wasn't_ fine, but I wasn't going to admit to anything. Bobby had witnessed too much weakness from my part already.

"So, how come you're at the mall alone?" he said, changing the subject.

I sighed. "Gotta buy myself a bathing suit. They're a staple in California, apparently."

"What are _you_ going to do with a bathing suit?" Jimmy snorted.

I gave him a playful glare. "I don't know – what could I _possibly_ do with a bathing suit in the land of beaches?"

"You'll have to forgive Jimmy. Sometimes, he rides the short bus," Bobby teased. This earned him a hit on the shoulder from the brunet.

It was impossible to think that these two guys could ever associate with someone like Johnny Lawrence. They seemed so _nice_. It was so easy to be around them, even easier than being around Freddy and Alan. I could see Bobby and Jimmy being my friends, which was a horrible thing to think about because I knew it wouldn't ever happen, not while Johnny continued to dislike me.

I took a sip of my milkshake. "You guys want to tag along? I don't have any girlfriends to give me their opinions."

"We'll be your girlfriends," Bobby decided, grinning.

"Yeah, because it's not like we have better things to do than to watch you change into bathing suits all day," Jimmy added mockingly.

"Perfect," I said. "Let's go."

* * *

Bobby ended up being the most helpful. Jimmy only ever said "it's nice" when I picked something out, and then proceeded to stretch and yawn animatedly, hoping I'd get the hint that he was bored. By the time I was onto my fourth bathing suit, he'd ditched, saying he had errands to run. I honestly didn't mind. I liked Bobby a lot more.

Bobby also seemed to be glad about being left alone with me. That way, he didn't have to watch what he said. I can't say I was too happy about it; I knew exactly what he had on his mind.

"Listen," he began as I browsed through a rack of one-pieces, "I gotta know something because it's been bugging me all day yesterday."

"Shoot."

"Did _we_ make you cry?"

I looked up at him and saw him sporting the same look of concern in his grey eyes.

"No. No, it wasn't really you guys." I shook my head. "I just have a lot on my plate, that's all."

"Well, you gotta talk to _someone_ about it. If it's bothering you that much, you can't keep swallowing it down – _whatever_ it is that's bothering you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to be that someone?"

"Yeah." Bobby smiled.

It was practically impossible to refuse. He was right – I _did_ need someone's shoulder to cry on. Talking to Dean was out of the question, and I doubted Freddy and Alan had the emotional depth needed to sympathize with me.

"Alright." I braced myself on the rack in front of me. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Why were you crying?"

"Because I hate Kreese and I hate his dojo, and I kind of hate your friends." I paused. "And because I hate that I had no choice in anything. Dean signed me up for lessons and I didn't have a say in whether I wanted to be humiliated like that or not."

"That's it?"

"Sort of, yeah. Does it make me sound like a brat?"

"No." Bobby's eyebrows puckered together. "But I don't believe you. There has to be something else." He looked like he was thinking hard. "Why are you living with your brother? How come he calls the shots for you?"

Ah. There it was, the topic I had so desperately wanted to ignore. My hands were starting to shake.

"Because I don't _have_ anyone else," I answered. My voice was unbearably thick. "My parents died a few months ago."

It was like someone had jabbed Bobby right in the heart. The look he held in his eyes was pained. I hated that look. It reminded me too much of my own every time I gazed in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said. Then, he gritted his teeth. "And Tommy and Dutch only made things worse for you yesterday. Those assholes."

"Hey, it's okay," I assured him. "Like I said, I'm fine." I dabbed at the dampness around my eyes. "But thank you, Bobby. You're one of the few people that have been nice to me since I got here."

He smiled again, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Anytime, Quinn. Anytime."

* * *

Bobby ended up giving me a ride home on his dirt bike. I was sure that if Dean found out about it, he'd tear me a new one. I was glad to see upon our arrival that Dean's car was, once again, not in the driveway.

I ended up buying a black one-piece that had a very deep neck-line. Bobby had picked it out. It was a little more revealing than I was used to but I could see why he thought it was a good choice; all eyes would be on _me_ at the beach party. He definitely knew a thing or two about kicking off a social life.

When I got off his bike and handed him back the helmet he'd lent me, Bobby gave me a grin. "See you tomorrow," he said.

I winced. "Right. Great. I can get my ass kicked again."

"Hey, don't worry too much about it," he assured me. "You're good. You just need to stop worrying about what other people think."

"And that's _so_ easy to do with your friends insulting me every time I breathe."

"You're right. But listen, they're just trying to freak you out."

"It's working."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I'll deal with them. You just stick to your karate."

"Sure thing." I smiled. "Thanks for hanging out with me today."

"No problem. Have fun at your beach party."

And with that, he sped off.

* * *

 **So, I'm kind of deviating a little from the original story I wrote, but like I mentioned before, there's a bunch of things I've always wanted to change about Quinn and her relationship with the movie's characters. Still, I hope you guys enjoyed this part!**


	5. Jackknife Kicks

**QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

The next morning, I arrived at the Cobra Kai dojo at seven-thirty. I didn't want to take any chances; I had to change into my uniform without anyone around to walk in on me.

Surprisingly, I wasn't as nervous as before. Bobby's words had comforted me more than I'd expected them to. The prospect of seeing Johnny Lawrence and his friends no longer scared me – if anything, it was almost exciting.

 _Almost_.

I changed into my gi slowly and carefully, poking at the place on my chest where Johnny had hit me a few days ago. It barely hurt anymore. All I had to do was not get hit there again and I'd soon be back to normal. Easier said than done.

After getting changed, I went out to the training area and began stretching on the white mat. First the neck, then the arms and the torso, and then the legs. I made sure to focus on my breathing and my stances. Everything had to be done perfectly if I wanted to be better than everyone else.

Sensei Kreese had a smile plastered on his face as he watched. "Gray," he called. I straightened and assumed a resting position.

"Yes, sensei?"

He grabbed two kicking pads from the bench in the visitor's gallery and then secured them around his arms. "Give me a jacknife," he instructed, holding the kicking pads up high.

Fear jolted through me. When was the last time I'd done something as flashy as that? I was sure to embarrass myself in front of him. Was that what he wanted? Was this some sort of payback because I'd defeated Bobby?

"Sensei, I don't know if I can," I said.

"Your brother told me you used to do them just fine. I'm not going to ask you again, Gray."

My brother? How did my brother know what I could or could not do? Had my parents told him that much about me?

I pushed the thought aside and swung my whole body around, kicking the two pads decently – the first with my right foot, and the second with my left heel. My landing was terrible, though. I stumbled and fell backwards onto the mat. Pain shot up my ankle.

"You kick like a drunken duck," Kreese said. "Do it again. And this time, maintain eye contact."

I kipped up. Something about the way the lighting in the room seemed to bounce off his light blue irises made him seem a little more harmless than yesterday. I knew that he could snap my neck like a twig if I ever did anything to piss him off, but today, he looked… _friendly_.

Again, I swung my legs again, and the only time that I ever took my eyes off his were when I was turned around. Even then, I always had a good idea of where he was standing and what he was doing. My landing wasn't as bad that time; I managed to land on my feet, though rather shakily.

"Better," he said. "Again."

I did as he instructed. Truth be told, I didn't see why he was trying to perfect my jacknife. It was more acrobatics than karate, even though if used correctly, could be very powerful. But you had to be sure your opponent was already dazed enough to some degree. They had to have lost focus for something as flashy as the jacknife kick to work on them, or they had to be very impressionable. Either way, I was sure it wouldn't work against Johnny Lawrence and his gang.

I repeated the kick again and again. My head felt like it was going to explode. After a while, I couldn't see straight and I could barely stand on my two feet without wobbling. I tried to keep my eyes fixed on Kreese, but at one point I saw two of him, and I wasn't sure which one I was supposed to look at.

I wanted to stop. I _needed_ to stop. The actual lesson hadn't even begun and I already felt like collapsing. What was Kreese waiting for? What did he expect out of me? How long was I going to keep kicking for?

I gritted my teeth. As I spun around, I gave him the hardest kick yet. Kreese slid backwards about an inch. He remained silent for a few seconds and his eyes narrowed themselves in a half-glare. My veins turned cold; Kreese looked like he was about to slap me. As I was getting ready to feel the stinging burn of his hand, he did something that surprised me. He _laughed_.

"Would you look at that?" Kreese said. "You're better than I thought." I let out a nervous chuckle and assumed my resting position. "Maybe you're not going to be difficult to work with. Isn't that right, Mr. Lawrence?"

Lawrence? As in _Johnny_ Lawrence?

My head snapped towards the door and I went rigid. Johnny and his four friends were standing in the visitor's gallery, each with different looks on their faces. Tommy and Dutch looked taken aback, and Bobby and Jimmy were both grinning widely. Johnny was the only one who remained stoic, and I felt a wave of disappointment hit me. His eyes – cerulean blue – bore right into mine.

"Yes, sensei," he replied.

Kreese turned to the boys. "Go get changed," he instructed. Then, he took off the kicking pads and dropped them on the bench in the foyer. "Come on," he said to me.

I joined him where he was standing. He pointed to a poster on the wall.

 _ **ALL VALLEY KARATE CHAMPIONSHIPS – DEC. 19**_ _ **TH**_

"Every year, my best students enter," Kreese said. "Keep up your training and you could, too."

My eyes widened. Though I tried to keep my hands firmly by my side, they were shaking. He wanted me to _compete_? I didn't stand a chance, not with Johnny Lawrence and his friends around. Bobby might have gone easy on me during training, but he sure as hell wouldn't throw a tournament match. I was sure that if I had to face him, friend or no friend, he would pulverize me in two seconds flat.

But I couldn't say "no", at least not right away. I'd find some excuse later. I still had months until the tournament.

"Thank you, sensei," I said.

Kreese turned his head towards the changing room doors. The boys were huddled around it – Tommy, Dutch, and Johnny were glaring at me. Great. They'd overheard. They were never going to let me live that down. I wasn't tournament material and they knew it.

"Didn't I tell you to get changed?" Kreese snapped.

They disappeared through the archway.

I slowly walked towards the nearest wall and leaned back against it, trying to catch my breath. More boys piled in and they all headed for the changing room. I kept peering at the door, heart beating faster every time it opened. I was expecting to see Johnny come out of there with a sneer on his face; I was expecting him to laugh at me and tell me that my kicks were so choppy and amateurish; I was just waiting for to label me as a dilettante and then have his friends join in with the teasing and mocking.

But when he did come out of the change room, Johnny didn't say anything. He didn't even look at me. His friends were sullen too. Only Bobby and Jimmy smiled at me encouragingly. _They_ didn't feel too bad about me potentially fighting alongside them.

Bobby leaned over and told Johnny something that made him glance back at me. His eyes met mine and instinctively, I narrowed them in a cold glare. Johnny hesitantly looked back at his friend.

Dutch said something while grinning and Johnny rolled his eyes and hit his shoulder playfully. Bobby smiled, looked at me and then at Johnny. He continued to speak and Johnny listened to him, with Jimmy occasionally speaking up, too. Then, Johnny said something in reply, his lips barely moving. Bobby nodded. Tommy and Dutch howled with laughter, earning annoyed looks from the rest of their friends.

I remembered what Bobby had told me about how he'd deal with his friends. Was this it? What was he telling them?

My feet turned to lead. Was he telling them the stuff I'd told him in confidence? Had he pretended to be my friend just so he could find new things to laugh at with his _actual_ friends?

I swallowed hard and pushed those thoughts out of my head. They could wait until after the karate lesson.

After everyone finished stretching, we practiced some drills. Johnny took over Kreese's role as the instructor – he stood at the front of the group, facing us, warming us up. It was _so_ clear he was the favourite. What a brat.

After getting fired up, we started matching. I didn't go first, to my immense relief.

Dutch was up against another black belt. Tommy cheered him on as soon as he stood up, and Dutch's lips curled into a smirk.

The match hadn't even started properly and Dutch knocked the other black belt to the ground. The black belt moaned a little and tried to get up, but Dutch didn't think twice; he hit the back of his neck and made him fall to the ground again. Kreese gave him an approving look. Dutch strutted cockily back to his spot and sat down.

 _I'm dead_ , I thought. _Deader than dead._

Jimmy was up next. He was the only brown belt of Johnny's group, but that didn't make him any less talented. He, too, was paired up against a black belt.

Jimmy was more of a dodger, so to speak. He was quick and slender, and he easily slipped past his opponent's blows. When the other guy let his guard down for a quick second, Jimmy sprang in and side kicked him in the chest. The black belt fell, and Jimmy delivered the final strike. That also earned him a look of approval from Kreese.

I cheered when Bobby went up, which earned me strange looks from the rest of his friends. He was paired up with a much stockier guy but that didn't faze Bobby; two kicks were all it took to bring his opponent down. It became painfully obvious just how much Bobby had held back on me before. There was no hesitation about him anymore; he was Kreese's student, through and through.

"Gray, Hale!" Kreese called out. Tommy stood, his usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

So that was his name. _Tommy Hale_. It would have been nice if it hadn't belonged to a piece of shit like him.

My blood was pounding in my ears as I moved to the center of the mat.

"Fight!"

Tommy got into a stance, as did I. It surprised me how calm I was. I was waiting for the nerves to kick in but all I felt was anger. I was seething, seeing red.

"Kick her ass, Tommy!" Dutch urged.

Bobby's words came into mind. _You're good. You just need to stop worrying about what other people think._

Tommy thought of me as a joke. It was easy to use that to my advantage. He wouldn't see his defeat coming.

He moved in to strike and I dodged. There was no stumbling this time. I feinted with a roundhouse kick and just as he was about to block it, I spun the other way and swept his legs out from under him. He landed on his back hard.

I waited as he got up. I didn't want to attack him when he was down. There was no challenge in that.

Tommy wasn't amused anymore. Even Dutch looked worried. The match wasn't the easy win everyone thought it'd be.

"What are you sitting around for?" Kreese bellowed. " _Move_!"

Tommy did just that – he threw a series of punches, followed by a front-kick, all of which I blocked. The more I focused, the more time I had to counter his blows. Everything seemed to be happening so slowly and I could see his moves before he put them into action; was this what being _good_ felt like?

I thought back to the numerous sparring sessions in Oregon. Had I ever felt this at ease while fighting someone? I couldn't remember.

Tommy was starting to make mistakes and leave openings in his defense. Was this how much I fazed him? Had he been thrown off by how much effort he was forced to put into the fight.

I feinted another kick and sent a punch to his stomach and one to the side of his head. I didn't feel bad at all when he dropped to his knees, face contorted in an expression of pain. It felt _good_ to hurt him.

My eyes flickered to Kreese, and he nodded as if he could tell what I was thinking. I turned and swung my legs like I'd done that morning. Tommy's pupils dilated, but his defense was too slow; I sent a kick to his chest and another to his jaw. I don't think I'd ever performed a more perfect jackknife than that.

The fight was over. There was no doubt about it; I'd won.

The tension in the dojo was palpably thick. A heavy silence formed – and was broken just as quickly by Kreese.

"Alright, next match!" he said. "Robertson, Adams!"

* * *

It felt surreal to think that I'd defeated Tommy.

I knew I won the match because I took him by surprise. He'd underestimated me and that had been his biggest mistake. I was sure he'd thought that since Johnny had an easy time kicking my ass, he would, too. He'd gotten cocky about it; Tommy was nowhere near Johnny's level.

But I wouldn't get away that easily in future matches. Tommy knew now what I was capable of. He wouldn't let his arrogance cloud his judgement again.

The nerves were finally starting to kick in.

We'd been following the rules in this match, but I was sure that in a fight where anything was allowed, Tommy wouldn't have lost. And outside the dojo, there _were_ no rules for him to play by. Outside the dojo, it was open season.

It was starting to look like I'd made a horrible, _horrible_ mistake.

Tommy and Dutch were glaring at me in the changing room. Johnny was nowhere to be seen. Bobby was talking quietly to Jimmy; when he saw me glancing at them, he joined me with a smile.

"Nice moves out there," he said.

My cheeks heated. "You're the only one that think so."

"No, trust me – _everyone's_ shaken up. You're a threat now."

Tommy whipped his karate belt onto the bench. "What the hell is this, Bobby?" he snapped. "How come you and Gray are so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?"

I tensed. Bobby gave him a hard look.

"I told you, man. She's cool."

"Yeah?" Tommy rubbed his mouth with the back of his palm. "She's fighting in the tournament now, Bobby. She ain't even been here a week and Kreese suddenly thinks she's good enough!"

So _that's_ why I was a threat.

"Tommy, relax," Jimmy said. He tried to pat his shoulder but Tommy whipped his arm away.

"Such loyal friends _you_ are," he spat. "Were you cheering _her_ on the entire time?"

"I wasn't cheering on anyone," Bobby replied. It was the wrong thing to say.

"No, you weren't." Tommy gritted his teeth. "You were supposed to be rooting for your best friend since the third-fucking-grade, but I guess shit like that doesn't matter when a piece of ass shows up."

Bobby glared. "It's not like that."

"The hell it isn't!"

The door swung open and Johnny walked in. He wore the same apathetic expression on his face as he did that morning, and it irked me that he could be so cold and so handsome at the same time.

"Gray," he said, "don't get changed yet. Kreese wants to see you."

I nodded and retied my belt around my waist. Tommy scoffed loudly, and Dutch patted his back.

"You better watch out, Johnny," Dutch said, his tone mocking. "Quinn here is going to fight in the tournament." His voice turned icy. "Though people with shit karate don't stand a fucking chance."

My lips curled into a sickly-sweet smile. "Maybe Tommy should train harder then."

I was out the door before I could see their expressions.


	6. Ali Mills

**QUINN GRAY'S POV:**

I didn't know what Kreese wanted to see me for but it couldn't have been good. I racked my brain for anything I could have done wrong during the match. I hadn't shown any hesitation against Tommy. If anything, I had been a little _too_ eager to beat him up. _Strike first, strike hard, no mercy_ – I'd nailed three out of three.

It didn't help that Johnny Lawrence was trailing behind me, still in his uniform. He had a hard look on his face – the way he always did when it came to me, now that I thought about it. Kreese motioned for the both of us to join him in the middle of the white mat.

 _Oh, no,_ I thought. _If we have to fight again, I'm dead._

"Mr. Lawrence," Kreese began, "I want you to train Quinn. Catch her up to speed with the rest of the group."

Johnny stiffened. His voice was strained when he answered. "Yes, sensei."

Kreese turned his gaze to me. "You are to follow his every command, is that clear?"

I nodded, throat too dry to speak. It was evident from the way Johnny's lips curled back that this arrangement wouldn't go too well for me.

Kreese left us to it. I eyed Johnny cautiously. His face went back into a solid expression.

"Fighting positions," he said, irritated.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of the Cobras make their way out of the changing rooms. Tommy and Dutch shot me a nasty look and seemed to communicate silently with Johnny. It wasn't hard to imagine what they were trying to say – _kick her ass back to Oregon_. Bobby mouthed a "we'll see you later" to Johnny and he nodded briskly before they left the dojo.

It wasn't hard to keep up with Johnny. He was a good teacher, surprisingly enough; he was straight-forward and easy to follow when reiterating through the techniques I'd learned back in Salem. But it killed me to see him be so cold. I knew beating up one of his friends didn't really earn me any points in his books, but any kind of small talk would have been nice.

It didn't make sense for him to dislike me that much. I hadn't done anything to him.

It also didn't make sense for me to care about it the way I did. I couldn't explain that either. I knew it was stupid to worry about what Johnny Lawrence thought. It was all Dean's fault – if he hadn't signed me up for karate, I wouldn't be so distracted by the blond.

Still, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I'd done something wrong.

"What's your problem?" I snapped.

Johnny's eyes narrowed. "I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do!" I urged. "You've been pissed at me since I joined the dojo – you _and_ your friends."

He scoffed. "Get over yourself. Not everything's about you."

His words were like a blow to my stomach. I gritted my teeth. He was right; not everything was about me. But he and his friends were laughing at _my_ expense.

"Am I a threat? Is that it?"

" _Please_ , with your karate?"

I placed my hands on my hips. "What's wrong with my karate?"

"It's shit."

Another blow. It hurt a lot more that time around. For a moment, my throat closed in on itself and I couldn't speak.

"It's shit," I repeated sourly. "You think Tommy would agree?"

"Tommy lost focus," Johnny replied. "That's all."

"You're _such_ a dick."

Johnny's eyes trailed on mine for a little longer – and then he swung a kick out and swept my legs from under me. I fell heavily on my back, gasping for my breath.

" _Focus_ , Quinn." There was an edge of humour in his tone that made me want to scratch his eyes out. As I got up shakily, he headed back to the changing room. "We're done here," he added, disappearing through the archway.

* * *

I headed straight to Golf 'N Stuff after karate. It had been the perfect distraction after Johnny had beaten me to a pulp on my first day at the dojo, so I was counting on it to have the same effect again. Funny enough, I could feel a tradition starting to form; Johnny gets on my nerves, I cool off at the Arcade. Heaven forbid he and I should ever be there at the same time.

The Arcade was bustling with people. I didn't see Freddy or Alan anywhere, not that I could see much in the crowd of people. Sighing, I walked around from game to game until I came across a skeet shooting simulator. Three girls were already there, giving it a try – two blondes and a brunette. I watched as the shorter blonde brought the plastic gun up to her shoulder and took a shot, missing the orange disk on the screen.

"Bring your gun up to your cheek," I suggested. "Helps with the aim."

She did just that and her next shot was a perfect hit. A huge smile lit up her face.

"Thanks," she said. "Wanna try?"

I took a shot too, hoping I wouldn't miss. It would have been humiliating if I couldn't follow my own advice. To my relief, I nicked the target immediately.

"You're good," the short blonde praised. "What's your name?"

"Quinn. What's yours?"

"Ali. This is Susan and Barbara." She pointed to the brunette and the taller blonde. "Where do you go to school?"

"West Valley."

"Cool. Are you new?"

"Yeah." I was hit with a feeling of deja-vu.

The brunette – Susan – eyed me suspiciously. "I've heard about you," she said. "You train with the Cobra Kai."

I tried not to look surprised. "Yeah, I do. How did you know?"

"Tommy talked about you."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Her cheeks flushed. Beside her, Barbara stiffened. "Sort of," Susan replied.

I grinned. "Don't get mad but I _sort of_ beat him up today." Ali giggled at Susan's horrified expression. "But don't worry," I assured her. "The only damage I did was to his ego."

We walked around the Arcade for a while, trying out different games while the girls had me recite my life story. Just like with Freddy and Alan, I didn't go into too much detail. They didn't push anyway; Susan and Barbara were way more curious about my karate.

"So did you make any friends at the dojo?" Barbara asked.

"You guys know Bobby and Jimmy, right?" I asked. They nodded. "They're kind of cool. But I don't think the other guys appreciate my presence very much."

"Yeah, I heard Tommy and Dutch gave you a hard time," Ali said, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly.

"Must be _so_ cool, though," Barbara mused. "Training with cute guys all the time."

"Sure, I guess. Honestly, I don't really notice." That was such a lie, but I couldn't let them know what my mind thought of every time I saw Johnny's pretty blue eyes. "Besides, I don't have time to be distracted like that. No one really thinks I'm good enough to be a Cobra Kai. I have to catch up to the rest." That part was true. Apparently, my karate was shit. I had to make Johnny eat his words.

Susan raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Good luck with that. Tommy said—"

"You don't always have to listen to what Tommy says," Ali told her. Her tone was slightly clipped. I was grateful; it was starting to look like Susan and I wouldn't get along that great.

"But if you had to pick," Barbara continued, oblivious to my distaste for the subject. "What guy would you go out with?"

I wrinkled my nose. That was exactly why I didn't have many female friends back in Oregon. Along with puberty came the insatiable thirst for boys. Not that it wasn't the other way around for guys too, but at least none of my male friends stuck obstinately to the topic of who would date who when it was clear I wanted no part of the conversation.

"I'm sure they'd never ask me out," I said.

Barbara was about to say something else but Ali cut her off. "Quinn and I will go get some milkshakes," she said. "Do you guys want anything?"

The two girls shook their heads. They sighed in disappointment – clearly, they'd wanted to know more – but then went back to scouting the area for games to play. Ali nudged me and gave me a smile as we headed out of the Arcade and towards the nearest concessions stands.

"I'm sorry about those two," she said as we walked. "They're a little jealous that you get to train with Tommy and the guys."

I laughed. "So are they both into Tommy?"

"Sort of. But Susan claimed him first, so Barbara has to make do with Dutch. You know Dutch, right?"

"Yeah." There was a sour taste in my mouth. I knew Dutch far too well.

"So are you into one of the Cobra Kai too?" I asked.

Ali's mood dampened a notch. She suddenly looked very interested in her fingernails. "Not really. I used to date one of them, but it ended badly."

It was my turn to pry. I could tell she wanted me to drop the subject but there was an inexplicable coldness in my gut that wouldn't go away. I had to know.

"Who was it?"

She straightened. "Johnny Lawrence."

My stomach dropped. _Johnny_? I'd thought it impossible for him to be affectionate with anyone. The idea that his blue eyes had ever held a trace of warmth for another person was like a thousand needles to my chest. And yet he and Ali – gorgeous, blonde Ali – had been together at one point.

She was beautiful. How could I compete with that?

I reeled back. Why was I thinking of Ali as competition? It wasn't as if I liked Johnny. Sure, he was stunning and had gorgeous blue eyes that sometimes kept me up at night, but that couldn't mean anything. Could it?

"Quinn? You okay?" Ali shook my arm gently.

"I'm fine," I answered, swallowing hard. I could barely keep my eyes open from how hard they stung.

"You don't have to worry," she said. "I broke up with him a while ago. There's nothing between us anymore."

 _I bet he wouldn't agree_ , I thought bitterly. It dawned on me that maybe she was the reason why Johnny was so sullen and angry. Losing someone like Ali couldn't have felt good. If it ended badly, chances were he was still hung up on her.

I didn't stand a chance.

I cleared my throat. "Why would I worry?"

"Listen, you can fool Barbara and you can fool Susan, but you can't fool me," Ali said. "I get it. I used to like him too. He's great in a lot of ways." She paused and shook her head. "But he thinks he can get away with doing whatever he wants."

It was like my veins turned to ice. Sure, I'd had my doubts about him from the start, but hearing Ali confirm them was painful. _Stop caring, Quinn_ , I told myself. But there was no use. I was a lost cause.

"The girls and I are having a beach party this Sunday," Ali continued, changing the subject. "You want to come?"

I smiled apologetically. "Sorry. A few guys have already invited me to one that day. But hey, maybe we'll see each other around?"

She grinned widely. "Definitely."

"So, you still up for that milkshake?"


End file.
